Cracked Reality
by LStormcloud
Summary: She's desperately in love with Peter Parker, too bad he barely knows she exists. Who is she? Ursula Ditkovich. Her thoughts when she witnesses the moment at the end of SM2 between MJ and Pete in his bedroom.


**A/N:** This is my short tribute for an entirely neglected character, Ursula, and one that in my opinion could be fascinating to explore. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Spiderman does not belong to me and I get nothing from writing this except my own enjoyment.

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**Cracked Reality **

by, LStormcloud

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She's beautiful you know. I didn't want to admit that to myself for a long time, but I have to face the truth now. She's beautiful and kind and brave; everything that I'm not. 

The warped wood of the door is leaving splinters in my back as I slide down it, but I barely wince at the pain. My hands are balled into fists and I can vaguely feel my fingernails pierce the callused skin of my palms.

I uncurl my fists and watch in fascination as crimson the liquid slowly drips onto my faded jeans, staining them a deep rust color. It's beautiful in a twisted way. Kind of like her, but she has a different kind of beauty, one that is _pure_. I wonder if that's why he chose her.

Then again, I'm sure it wasn't a very hard choice. I'm nothing, _nothing_, compared to her. I can hear them talking through the flimsy wood and I half-heartedly try to block out their words.

"Here I am, waiting in your doorway. I've always been waiting in your doorway Peter." Her voice is has a musical quality even when it is breaking from emotion and I try my best not to hate her.

She's right you know. She's always been waiting at his door for him; he was just too dense to see her. I admire her for that, for having to courage to open herself up to him. I've never had the guts to do what she did. Instead of standing in the doorway I've always been just outside it, hiding in the shadows.

I should have done more. I should have done _something_. But I didn't, I couldn't and now all I have is regret.

"Isn't it time somebody saved your life?"

Her last sentence struck me like a lightening bolt, shaking me from my musings. She knew. Oh gods, she knew. I've known for a while now, known who he really is, I mean. I've been helping him as much as I can, giving him food, covering for him against my father and his friends, but now… He doesn't need me anymore.

Damn it all, why couldn't she have left me at least this much? Why did she have to come in and take everything away from me? Wasn't it enough that he loved her? Wasn't it enough that every time he saved the city, he saved it for _her_ and her alone? Don't get me wrong, he cares about the others, but I've seen the way his eyes will linger on her billboard when he comes back at all hours of the night.

It's not fair, she doesn't stand outside his door every night he goes out, wondering if he will come back hurt-if he'd even come back at all. She wasn't the one who secretly left bandages for him so that he had something other than torn undershirts to wrap his wound.

No, I do that. But now that she knows, she'll probably wait at his window for him instead of in the hallway hoping to catch a glimpse of his return. She'll probably help him wrap his bandages instead of just leaving them for him.

The low murmuring of voices dies away and unable to resist, I stand and open the door a crack- just enough so I can see into his room.

The breath freezes in my throat as I see them. Her back is to me and her skin is pale and creamy against the white of her dress and I think of my own sallow skin with envy. The most heart shattering thing is him. He's kissing her like she's the only thing keeping him alive, like she's the only thing worth living for.

I can feel bile rising in my throat as he runs his fingers through her hair, caressing it like it's precious silk, visibly savoring the texture and weight of it. I imagine myself in her place, pretending that it's _my _curves he's exploring instead of hers, that it's _my_ name drumming in his mind like a prayer.

My legs are shaking too badly to support my weight and my knees unexpectedly give way. I notice dully that they're too far-gone in each other to notice the sound of my fall.

Sirens interrupt them and he breaks away with reluctance. I can see the disappointment in her posture as she grudgingly understands his reasons. As he pulls away I can see her murmuring something to him and I wonder if her breath tickles his ear. He disappears from sight and a split second later I see him hurtle himself out his open window.

She runs to the window after him and grasps the sill with perfectly manicured hands. The sun alights on her hair, giving the illusion that it's on fire and her face tilts back. I can't see her eyes, but I know they're watching him leave and that she'll keep standing there, watching and waiting until he comes back.

I finally release the sob clawing its way up my throat and for the first time in a long while, I cry.

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**A/N:** What do you think? Like it? Hate it? Let me know! Remember, flames will only feed the fire. 


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